Page 45 of The Sinner (Haven Grace Prep 1)

I poke her in the side, loving the way she squirms. “That was different. It was huge!”

“Whatever you say, wuss.”

That night, we fell asleep together, wrapped in each other’s arms, where no storm or spider could ever hurt us.

With one more crack of thunder, everything goes completely black. The only thing brightening the room is the very minimal light coming through the windows. Still, Savannah is yet to flinch once.

“All right,” Miss Lawson announces. “Grab your things and head to the gym. It looks like we’re going to take shelter in there until the storm clears and the power comes back on.”

I gather all my belongings quickly and make sure to stand next to Sav as we leave the classroom.

“When did that happen?”

Her brows furrow. “When did what happen?”

“You lost your fear of storms,” I explain. “I seem to remember a time when I needed to hold you so you’d stop screaming every time lightning struck.”

“Maybe that was just an excuse to get you to hold me.”

I hum. “Perhaps, but we were nine, and you were crying.”

She chuckles dryly, looking anywhere but at me. “Why do you care, Grayson?”

She’s right, I shouldn’t. The fucked-up fact that I do is not lost on me.

“Just humor me.”

Groaning, she turns around and looks me straight in the eyes. “About a year after you left, when thunderstorms became the least scary thing I dealt with.”

With nothing else to say, she walks away and leaves me alone to wonder what she meant by that. I saw how afraid she was that night, and there is no way it was a ploy to get in my arms. Her fear was too genuine, too painstakingly real to be faked.

My mind instantly remembers the bruise on her ribcage. She said it was from dance, but what if it wasn’t? I try to remind myself that her safety and wellbeing aren’t my problem, but the second I see Delaney in the hallway, it all goes out the window. She needs someone, and while it can’t be me, that doesn’t mean she should be alone.

“Laney,” I call out to her. She stops and waits for me as I catch up. “Hey. You and I need to talk.”

15

Savannah

Pirouette. Three rotations. Turnout. Grand jeté.

I throw myself into the moves, using each one to distract my mind from thoughts of Grayson. Lennon follows along with a mastered skill. We both move in sync, showing how compatible we are as a duet. Brady stands off to the side and watches the choreography for any errors while controlling the music.

“Lennon, work on your face. You look pained,” he tells her.

She laughs, not faltering in her moves at all. “You try keeping up with her. You’d be in pain too.”

I ignore their banter and focus on the routine. In the recital, I have four dances—a solo, a duet with Lennon, a duet with Brady, and a group routine with me as the featured dancer. It may be a lot to take on, but I’ve never liked anything more. Dancing is my escape, my happy place. When I’m letting my body get lost in a song, it’s like nothing else in the world matters.

Arabesque. Front Aerial. Fouetté. Turn. Run. Split. Pirouette. Turnout. Fall. Pose.

As the music ends, I can see how hard Lennon is breathing, while I’ve barely broken a sweat. She looks at me in disbelief and shakes her head as she falls to the floor.

“That’s it. I’m convinced. You’re superhuman.”

I grab my water bottle from the windowsill and sit down to rest against the wall. “No, I’ve just been doing this for years. Over a decade even. It’s all I know.”

Brady plays some background music and joins us on the floor to stretch, warming up for our duet. “I always judge Savannah’s mood on how hard she dances.,” he offers, and it reminds me of how well he knows me. “Like today, there’s something on her mind. Something she’s trying to avoid.”

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